Diary of a Heretic

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His Touch Cooled Her Off
2008-06-05 04:24:00
Gavin projected an easy-going energy, combining a come-what-may manner with a wink and cheer that only occasionally felt artificial to Amanda. His bald crown triggered a protective tenderness in her every time she spotted it—when he was getting out of a car or bending down; when he tucked his chin while hurrying through daylight or propped his head on a pillow reclining under lamp light. [Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.] His big hands casually taught James how to throw a squishable, kid-size football so it spun, fast or slow. One Saturday afternoon, when Gavin pulled out an elaborate kite to fly in the park, Amanda had to look away and clear her throat. Then, emboldened, she found his gaze, her eyes flashing at his, as she careful asked if she had mentioned how her five-year old boy’s father had flown a kite on their honeymoon, practicing for time with James he had never gotten?  “You’d remember if you’d told me tha...
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Peace, Already, Peace
2008-06-04 02:24:00
Peace, already. What if you woke up alone in the world? No other voice and no other thoughts,What if you woke up alone in the worldWith no other prayers but yours? Already peace.
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Amanda Unmarried
2008-06-03 06:13:00
Since she had married Mike Morrison when she was barely eighteen, Amanda could hardly boast that she had held off marrying Mike, waiting for Walter. She hadn’t even remembered Walter during her years in high school and college. And if she had? Who knows what she might have thought or felt? Her “starter marriage” had lasted twelve years and given life to Evie and DeeDee. Amanda and Mike worked well as parents. Their divorce remained a relatively happy one, even if Mike wasn’t a happy man. Whenever he alluded to regret, she assured him. “Not your fault, Mike. It was never built to last.” [Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.] Her second husband, David Tighe, of course, counted as a stupid mistake. But it had cost her no consequence other than his silly teasing whenever he crossed her path at the high school where they both worked.    But she would never forgive herself for marrying Freddie Berger. Being pregnant w...

After My Breakdown
2008-06-02 04:49:00
After my little breakdown—in with the food and drink:  out with the vomit, mucus, and tears—Carlos hired a ghost writer for the Doctrine.  Justin Eagan is an ex-Jesuit who writes spiritual newsletters.  The Doctrine by yours truly will supposedly open doors for him.  That’s what Maggie and Carlos told him.  “No, your name won’t be on it, but rest assured:  Time Will Tell, the World Will Know.” [This post is an excerpt from Diary of a Heretic, the novel. Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.] Small and fox-faced, Justin Eagan has oily, honey-colored hair, and a believable laugh.  Going over the transcripts with him, Maggie finds endless excuses for squeezing his arm, patting his back, and “just forgive me a second,” brushing up, and around him. And:  we’ve hired Tim and Janice, a sweet, humble brother and sister team, to videotape the meetings. Which, no need to tell you, dear Diary, are in...

Over the Edge
2008-06-01 05:10:00
Standing close to the glass, I could hear the wind kicking and stalling.  I stared down at the lake, which was swelling and swooshing with white caps.  The motion repeated in me—swelling and swooshing.  I wanted a taste of fresh air, a walk outside, no, better yet, a flat-out, lung-burning run headlong into the wind. “Seriously,” Maggie slurred the word.  “Spiff him up.  Pouf up his tail, put a bow on his head. . . ” Pressed against the glass wall, I watched hundreds of people marching across the street.  Veins of traffic stopped and started.  Carlos and Maggie’s voices rose and fell.   But guess what?  I got out:  Elevator to the ground and through the revolving door. From one realm to another, I thought:  This is just a test. [This post is an excerpt from Diary of a Heretic, the novel. Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.] And then—smack into the stifling wind, I clapp...
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Her Fourth & Final Husband
2008-05-31 04:46:00
After Walter slew every dragon in Amanda’s life—starting with throwing Freddie out on the street—and after demanding that Amanda sign bank documents that officially bestowed upon her enough money for her and her children forever, he vanished. He didn’t answer his cell, or his home phone, or his work number. He ignored her emails. The long, impassioned letters she wrote bounced back, stamped “Return to Sender; Addressee Unknown.” [Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.] When she finally called Olivia, they talked for hours. O, who never worried, had begun worrying. She hadn’t heard from Walter since Christmas. Amanda described how in April Walter had appeared alarmingly thin. “And the fever, O! He insisted it was nothing, but every time I touched him, he was burning up.” Olivia revealed that she had never thought her father loved Amanda as “another daughter,” despite all the years he’d needed that fantasy. “No ma...
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A Bad Flu
2008-05-30 02:15:00
Amanda’s marriage to Freddie Berger lasted an unconscionable three years, because she kept praying that her baby son wouldn’t grow up fatherless. But of course she was being stupid. For Amanda understood all too well how incompetent Freddie was. [Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.] Practically coincident with James’ birth, Freddie began working nights, only. A need had developed, he explained, displacing him as official manager. The business required his special know-how to work as the off-hours “concierge.” Insisting that Freddie needed a full day’s sleep, Amanda paid a recently immigrated Polish woman, who lived twenty minutes north to care for James along with three other babies, while she worked.  Every other month, Freddie resolved to “get clean.” But Amanda even never hoped; it was impossible. His attempts to overcome his addictions induced sweating, shaking, and intermittent violence. One ugly hour, betwe...

We Spun Too Far
2008-05-27 18:52:00
After Maggie’s and my third or fourth glass of aquavit, we discovered each glass was actually subtler (more evocative was the word we kept using) than the last.  We kept toasting:  “To this moment and that moment.”  “To right now.” “To right now.”  Carlos kept butting in his startling gray head, to ask,  Did we mind?  He was on the phone! [This post is an excerpt from Diary of a Heretic, the novel. Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.] Maggie and I twined our arms, giggling and spilling.  The main problem with a Doctrine, I told her, was that it was just so—so doctrinaire.  “Why do we need it?  Why do we need any of this? Isn’t the whole thing ‘Religion Without Rules?’ So, why am I supposed to invent a catechism here? ” I was up, a few inches from the glass wall, staring down at a line of cars snaking around the lake.  Shafts of blue pierced through the clouds.  An...

My Candy-Red Heart
2008-05-26 04:41:00
Jesus, I tell myself, put something down.  Don’t worry about Doctrine, that’s ridiculous.  Try making a list. Okay—Dread and confusionUncontrollable suffering No, wait.  Start over.Possible Aspects of So Called Mystical Experiences:Dread and confusion.Uncontrollable suffering.Unbounded joy.An acute awareness of time and timelessness— [This post is an excerpt from Diary of a Heretic, the novel. Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.] Apparently, someone ordered room service.  Maggie and Carlos are in the other room, on their phones.  I call for them, but they don’t answer.  So after the bellhop lifts the lids off the dishes, I sign for them.  Still fasting, still pure, clean and resolute, I position the trolley of mineral water and chocolates, prosciutto and melon at the far end of the room, but not without marveling long and hard at the luscious rosettes of satiny pink tenderloin. . . Then it’s b...
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Pigeon
2008-05-25 00:46:00
We’ve taken four new suites.  The better to keep the money and presents from all the lay-down-your-life-for-me hangers-on.  While I stare listlessly at the interminable sky, Carlos and Maggie and a retinue of consultants bicker, prescribing this, proscribing that.  Three RWR bakeries are up and running already, not counting the real bakery, my  home. It’s nowhere near done, and nowhere near recognizable. [This post is an excerpt from Diary of a Heretic, the novel. Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.] On top of which:  The boy Tyler is nowhere to be found.  Carlos, I just discovered, fired Mad Mike and his crew three and a half weeks ago. “Mad Mike,” Carlos adjusts his Bluetooth earpiece, “is a drug addict.  You think I want a cokehead working the rotary saws?”  Carlos looks like someone from another life now, Carlos as CEO, Carlos in Italian suits.  But he still finds time each day to sid...
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Watch for Falling Rocks
2008-05-24 01:02:00
Amanda’s maternity leave, when it came, would amount to a measly six weeks—not the two year “sabbatical” of her dreams. This despite her high pay and (otherwise) excellent benefits. How spoiled she was! Her childcare options, everyone kept assuring her, were among the best in the US. Still, when Evie and DeeDee were born, she was a college student, whose graduate-student husband enjoyed plentiful support from his renowned parents. Freddie, in contrast, hadn’t produced a pay-check in months. Amanda foresaw him being fired every time he showed up at the hotel. From gambling debts, drinking, and drugs, he swung from bad to worse to better to practically fine. So far, his rhythmic arcs had not collided with any unfixable screw-up. [Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.] “You swear you’ve still got your job?” Amanda would ask. “Yes, indeedy! I’m still the hotel’s one and only manager.” Say what you will, Amanda thoug...
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The Next to Last Laugh
2008-05-21 03:53:00
A Unitarian minister married Amanda and Freddie in the Oak Park Hotel’s little side den. Freddie’s mother, Joyce, had decorated the room with six vases of pink tea roses. White voile bunting hung from the ceiling, offsetting an antique cherry desk, which served as a kind of altar. Freddie’s brothers, Jason and Jonathan, sat with Evie, DeeDee, and Joyce. Mr. Pierson from the Unitarian church played the flute for five minutes before and afterwards. Amanda’s friend Farrah stood as bridesmaid, wearing a short flowery skirt and black strapless top. Freddie’s friend Mark (the one who’d suggested a DNA test) handed him the ring, which was a gaudy yellow color, undoubtedly involving gold. [Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.] After a quick seafood lunch, Mike arrived to fetch the girls. According to Evie, he had broken up with his Episcopalian girlfriend “She has another boyfriend. Will.” Mike still attended the church and taught volu...
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Perverted Reality
2008-05-20 05:15:00
In April, her ex-husband David jogged across the high-school parking lot to tell her she was getting fat. “Wait up. I don’t mean like fat fat.” His hand loosely circled her upper arm and she yanked it free. “Be careful,” he called. “There’s an obesity epidemic going on.” When she finally told Freddie she was pregnant, he whooped at such great luck. He smiled his irresistible smile without let up. “A boy! My son!” He lost his suave hotel-manager act and acted like a teenager, pounding her shoulders, slapping her high-five. “Is it okay to tell people? You’re not just playing me, Amanda? We’re getting married and everything?” [Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.] After phoning his mom and talking to his two younger brothers, Freddie arranged a meeting early the next morning: his family, Amanda, the girls, and him. Then he ordered a bottle of Champagne and finished it off waiting for his friends Rick, Mark, Max, and Bri...
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Sacred Text
2008-05-19 03:25:00
Carlos, with yet another totally transforming haircut (clipped close and kept gray), strides through our combined celestial white suites in clothes that cost the earth, cell phone to his now naked ear. The rooms are glass, floor to ceiling. Altocumulus rows undulate around us. A Mogul for the Ages.  (That’s him.)  Master of the Religion Without Rules  (That’s me.) [This post is an excerpt from Diary of a Heretic, the novel. Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.] I sit festooned to an enormous white couch in new white clothes, which Maggie and I bought yesterday.  My pulse beats beneath a silk collar band.  It runs in a searing swath from my navel to my groin.  I can’t swallow.  I can’t breathe. I’m supposed to be composing the RWR Doctrine.  The meetings have become weird and exhausting.  I go on, say my stuff, people clap and cheer and money rises like mountains.  Except, Carlos con...
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Confusion, Panic, and Remorse
2008-05-18 00:44:00
Off stage, a bigger throng than usual pressed in on me.  They clapped and murmured, “Thank you, thank you.”  “Malcolm, Malcolm.”  You’d think I’d get used to it, but no.  The crux of my being is exposed.  It’s grotesque and unseemly, and after a big public spillover, I want to hide in a dark, empty room.  Except last night, upon seeing the boy Tyler, the sadness pooled deeper and deeper, while all the while a wall of hands patted my back and shoulders, head and chest. [This post is an excerpt from Diary of a Heretic, the novel. Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.] Stephanie and her new boyfriend Rafe, Maggie and her trumpet-playing boyfriend Lyle, Louie and his girlfriend, Demetria, Professors Llewlleyn and Smith, the people I knew, clamored for special attention, kisses and handholding.  I noticed Carlos at the top of the staircase.  He mouthed “home run” and shook a loosely formed wri...
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Squaring the Circle
2008-05-16 03:10:00
She wasn’t dreading seeing Walter. She wanted him there beside her, as desperately now as ever. But unlike three weeks ago, she wasn’t anticipating their time together as shimmering and glorious. Not this time.    Fragile and numb, she lay on the rug, still wearing green slacks and a matching jacket, the one with the scooped neckline and floppy lapels, which she had worn to work. Shoes off, bereft, she closed her eyes while her mind’s infrared twins ran from each other in circles and collided head on. [Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.] When Walter finally rang the doorbell, he did a double-take, similar to the one six months ago. Except this time he didn’t lift her in the air, and kiss her, abandoning everything.  This time, he said, “My God, Amanda, you’re so beautiful, it’s unreal!” She choked, trying to laugh and took his hand. “I should have bet the bank, Walter. That you’d be stupid and romantic a...
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Oh So Close
2008-05-14 02:32:00
Walter invited Amanda to Australia for Christmas. “Didn’t you say Evie and DeeDee were going skiing with Mike and his parents?” He knew Amanda and her mother no longer spoke. “So it would be just us visiting Olivia in Brisbane.” “Really.” Amanda clung to the kitchen counter as her mind spun madly around in a hammock. “Walter, are you sure?” “What do you mean, am I sure?” “You and me traveling to the other side of the earth? Just you and me. No Evie or DeeDee.” A line of energy shot through her. [Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.] “Yes, honey, I’m sure. And yes, of course, it scares me. But I’ve done all I can do. Olivia invited both of us. We’ll see what happens.” Now the charge was circulating through her whole body.  “Can I meet you in New York? We’ll fly together from there?” “I’ll call you in a few days with an itinerary.” For thirty-six hours her pulse beat so furiously she ...
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Husband Number Three
2008-05-13 06:10:00
Walter telephoned the Friday after Thanksgiving, thanking Amanda. Almost immediately, they argued inside the same old spirals formed of opposing, impossible hopes. Finally, Walter asked Amanda a favor. Michelle had left a valuable pink pearl earring in the hotel room, probably on the night-table.  [Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.] “Well then. Why don’t I drive over there and ask the hotel manager?” Amanda dug her fingernails into her forearm. She didn’t care one whit about Michelle and rejected any notion that Walter did either. “I appreciate it, honey.” “Just promise me that if it’s not at the hotel, you won’t buy her replacement earrings.” Freddie Berger, the hotel manager, affected suave mannerisms possibly, Amanda thought, to match establishment’s 1920s period style. He greeted her with a slight bow, his dark curls falling over a narrow forehead. He pressed her hand within his warm, strong, well-manicured...
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Ipso Facto Sexual
2008-05-12 04:41:00
I saw him!  At the Amphitheater tonight, in mid-performance, I pivoted, my arm swooping down, my voice rising, “You have to admit how you feel!  You have to risk making mistakes and be prepared to pay for them,” and there he was, his beautiful young face shining out from the dim and bobbling masses.  Oh!  If only I’d acted on my words!  How I feel, what I want!  Why didn’t I jump down, walk arms outstretched to where he sat, and implore him?  Come with me! [This post is an excerpt from Diary of a Heretic, the novel. Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.] Instead, I fluttered up there.  Shuddered, staggered, raked my hands through my hair and mopped my face with my billowy sleeve.  “Forget sexual denial,” I yelled, suddenly full of ire.  “The nonsexual ideal is a lie!  Banning sex leads not to enlightenment, not to purity, but to seething resentment and bitterest intolerance.&nb...
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Pull It Up or Pull It Down?
2008-05-11 02:54:00
Ten days later and I am still indifferent to Carlos.  In fact I am indifferent to everyone and -thing except:  one hopelessly unrealistic hope.  For ever since my sweet, quickening encounter with the beautiful boy Tyler, when he so innocently and sincerely asked, did I mind?  (Did I mind if he and his friends smoked dope on my time?)  I can think of nothing else!  Every three seconds he’s back, the soul of concern, of sweetness, light, peace, joy and hope, swaying politely in front of me, Blunt in hand. [This post is an excerpt from Diary of a Heretic, the novel. Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.] I can not concentrate.   I can not eat or sleep, I’m so fixated on that tool belt that seems to be wearing him more than he’s wearing it.  In my mind it’s slowly sliding off of him, and I can’t decide which I want more:  to pull it up or down.Tyler, Tyler, Tyler! If anything else matters, ...
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Lover Boy
2008-05-09 03:05:00
Walter and Amanda kept fighting about the joint bank account he’d set aside for her. The argument dominated the rest of the vacation without quite ruining it. They still enjoyed hikes with Evie and DeeDee. The girls learned to fish and Evie relished gutting their catch. They canoed, explored little islands, and discovered various birds and plants. They listened to music—Amanda was amazed that Walter liked jazz and blues probably better than David. [Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.] “Why didn’t you play your CDs for me when I was young?” “I wasn’t trying to educate you, Amanda. So, we listened to middle-school music.” Yet, more anger surfaced than Amanda had experienced with either of her ex-husbands. And, Walter told her that he had never faced this much antagonism: not when his ex-wife Sterling ran off with another man; not when she took Olivia from him; not even in prison, where he had quietly withstood a vicious clima...
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Bad Girl
2008-05-07 03:55:00
Amanda cried in the dirt, dozed a while, and woke, her eyes stinging and her face sore. This time she’d scraped and rubbed herself so she hurt all over. Afternoon light softened the air as she brushed away dirt and dead leaves. The rented bicycle included a water bottle and she splashed some of it on her face and legs. What was she going to do? It had to be bad. Really bad. [Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.] But not permanent. Amanda would never ride the bike straight into an oncoming car, for example. She wasn’t a fool. Having suffered periodic abandonment as a child, she’d never leave her girls motherless. She had devoted everything to them but for a few hours here or there, and she wasn’t going to toss that away, because of a temporary need, no matter how urgent, to be a terrible girl. A stupid punk girl Walter must punish. Last September, in her backyard, her friend Farrah was smoking a cigarette and cursing every sleaze bal...
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Desperation Comes & Goes
2008-05-06 04:10:00
Walter grilled trout he’d caught that morning, and removed the heads, bones, and skin. Watching him at the grill, Evie asked if next time he could leave the head on her fish. “So while I’m chewing him, I can look him right in the eye.” [Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.] Walter laughed. “You’re like my daughter Olivia.” “People say I look like my mom.” “No one looks like your mother,” Walter said. “She’s like no one else.” “Well, me either,” Evie said. “I’m like no one else.” “That’s right. You and DeeDee, your mother, me—everyone’s different from everyone else.” After Amanda read the girls a bedtime story, she joined Walter downstairs where he had built a fire in the stone fireplace. Open on his lap was a history of some Chinese dynasty, but the fire was mesmerizing. “Was it hard when your wife took Olivia away?” Why had she asked him such a stupid question? Amanda sweltered i...
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And the Top Shall Be Bottom
2008-05-05 03:08:00
I hate it here.  The hotel environment is so artificial, so studiously deluxe but not offensively grand.  It’s a glass-walled prison, high in the sky.  Everyone’s buzzing about, concerned and busy, and quick to defers to the tiniest alteration of my mood. “It’s a fucking fish tank,” I complain to Carlos, who then informs me the construction on the Linden Street shop is stalled. [This post is an excerpt from Diary of a Heretic, the novel. Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.] “Some kind of fuck-up with Mad Mike’s shipper,” Carlos says.  “And a few problems with variances.” “Meaning?” “Meaning we stay here another two weeks,” Carlos says, “minimum.” “Five weeks in the Swiss Crown?” “You know, the shop in Lincoln Park opens in a few days.  Stephanie wants to manage it, and the prospects look very promising.” “I don’t know,” I tell him, dejected by his ‘promising prospects...
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Nondenominational Has Its Privileges
2008-05-04 02:50:00
Colin and I used to come here on weekends. Sammy’s was the only place that accepted our fake IDs.  Now everything except the name has changed.  Something about the lighting back then, plus, I think, a mechanism in the floor, created an illusion of speed.  A lush female impersonator played the piano and sang bawdy old blues songs while the whole place seemingly hurtled through space.  Now the light is steady and bright enough for reading.  The music is piped in, and really, pretty much white noise.  Predictable, insipid changes or not, the strangest thing about wandering into Sammy’s was how unstrange it was. How unexpectedly normal it made me feel. [This post is an excerpt from Diary of a Heretic, the novel. Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.] I’m finishing a spanakopitta platter—Sammy’s Greek food stayed on the menu—when Carlos calls me from the Swissôtel.  He’s booked us for two weeks in a su...
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Heaven Backwards
2008-05-02 03:51:00
No fingers, mouths, tongues, lungs, secret crevices or racing, pounding, breaking hearts. After their momentary passion at the airport, Walter kept a careful distance for an hour. But once she had unpacked, once Evie and DeeDee decided the water was too cold for swimming, Walter suggested an afternoon hike. Amanda sank back into the wooden porch chair and covered her face. Walter stepped in front of her, ready to explain why they couldn’t be lovers, if she wanted an explanation. [Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.] That’s how certain he was. Shy, lonely Walter could talk about anything with her. That’s how much he loved her. And sex, she could hear him telling her, with its thrill and thrall, came and went. If Walter and Amanda forgot who they were, if they pretended no father-daughter attachment, they would betray themselves and each other. She knew that. She knew how destructive her desire was.    He gently shook her wr...
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Who Sleeps Where
2008-04-30 04:44:00
Walter rushed through the terminal’s automatic glass doors as if running late. But his entrance was so on time that Amanda immediately turned from the luggage carousel. Her happiness at seeing him lifted her high, defying gravity. He was wearing hiking shorts, sturdy boots, and a zip-up windbreaker. Amanda vaguely heard Evie and DeeDee giggling as if they had stepped inside a transparent chamber: “He looks like David except not so mean.” She pushed her palms toward them, meaning, hush-up. But the girls were tugging at each other, watching their mother glide toward the man.[Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.] Perhaps in his rush, perhaps fooled by the crowd, Walter scooped Amanda up, lifting her from the waist. If he hadn’t momentarily lost his bearings, he wouldn’t have twirled her in circles. She held his shoulders and he, disoriented, lifted her higher with one hand, the other cupping the back of her head. Momentarily lost, for...

Forget About Sex
2008-04-29 05:08:00
Amanda took Monday off after her brief and unfortunate marriage to David Tighe. Let everyone working in the Oak Park Forest Hills school district learn about her divorce from the high-school history chair before she faced them. Besides, she needed to buy household essentials. The moving company couldn’t promise to deliver their things from David’s garage for weeks.  The girls had returned from their Bermuda vacation with their father and his parents sunburned and exhausted. But Amanda insisted they go to school anyway. She had too much to do. [Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.] What she accomplished that day amazed her. With an efficiency and determination that sometimes blesses those in emergency, she hurried through stores, honing in fast: we need this and this and this. All the while, however, front and center in her mind was Walter. He phoned her while she was waiting for a mall parking space. “I’ve rented a four bedr...

Should I Stay or Should I Go
2008-04-28 04:34:00
Carlos is out securing hotel rooms for us for the next few weeks.  The shop and its bought-out neighbors are totally gutted.  I can either pace through the wreckage as I have for hours, or I can tap on my laptop as I am now.  Either way, my presence is negligible.  Either way, whether I stay or go—out to a movie, or for a walk, a newspaper, a drink, whatever:  everything everywhere is crashing all around me! [This post is an excerpt from Diary of a Heretic, the novel. Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.] Everything’s packed but the CD player.  Gregorian chants of Benedictine monks fill my bare, crate-stacked rooms. How long since I’ve eaten solid food?  Naked in front of the mirror, I can feel my ribs. So okay, I admitted it weeks ago! Tyler reminds me of Colin!  Now can I get dressed?  Now will I be able to eat?  Or if not eat—thinking of him (them) my skin feels so tight—I can at lea...
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Not What It Looks Like
2008-04-26 20:01:00
I left the stage twelve hours ago; I go back on tonight.  Am I frightened?  Mortified?  Exhausted?  I am a void—personified! Except you can no longer tell from the outside.  My almighty, anonymous needs still rage. The shop’s closed, the kitchen’s gutted.  All those tarts and strudels, cheesecakes, brownies and donuts don’t exist at the moment.  And maybe because I wear the muslin gown as much as he wants (or else I was so easy he lost interest), Carlos has no renewed interest in what I eat or drink. [This post is an excerpt from Diary of a Heretic, the novel. Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.] And my routine has changed.  I take long walks alone.  This morning as I crossed the Plaza del Lago shopping mall, Carlos appeared, silently, coolly in sync with me.  We traversed the small terrace and he stroked my left side.  We leaned into a brick corner and he hoisted me a bit in the a...